


Blame It On The

by tinybabydeer



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Chocolate Milk, M/M, Meet-Cute, Tumblr Prompt, Walk Into A Bar, listen i don't know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 09:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3605241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinybabydeer/pseuds/tinybabydeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"yes I know this is a bar but you're a really hot bartender and I panicked and said CHOCOLATE MILK when you asked what I wanted to drink now I want to crawl away and hide forever"</p>
<p>Harry makes a mistake at Liam's bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame It On The

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a tumblr prompt, for Alyssa because I love her and I love Lirry.
> 
> Written while slightly drunk, unbetaed or edited at all!!!! Enjoy

Harry was desperate for a drink.

He had been wandering around from job interview to job interview all day, doing his part, being cheeky and charming and handing everyone pristine copies of his neat and perfectly formatted (albeit meagerly qualified) resume, and now he was harried and exhausted and fully smiled-out and dying for a tall glass of something strong.

Problem was, he was in a far-off corner of London he didn’t frequent, and it was half-four in the afternoon. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and spun his arms around in a circle. He heard someone protest as he nearly hit them, so he mumbled an apology as he opened his eyes to see where he was pointing. Miraculously, he was actually pointing in the direction of what looked like a pub a ways down the road. It was settled then.

He set off towards the establishment, still knackered but feeling hopeful. Out of the eight jobs, surely someone had a spot for an out-of-work baker-slash-part-time-singer. He was fairly certain he didn’t qualify for at least half of the positions he interviewed for today, but there was no harm in trying right?

He pushed through the heavy door of the pub, gaze immediately being drawn to whatever game was on the telly above the bar. There were only a few other patrons, and their attention was being held by the game as Harry approached the worn wooden top of the bar. He drew his gaze from the screen as the bartender on duty turned toward him and-

Oh.

Oh my.

Here was his tall glass of something strong.

Time slowed for a long moment and Harry could feel his heart skip a beat or several as he made eye contact with the guy behind the counter. He was tall, maybe taller than him, and _built_ , he wasn’t wearing sleeves and had a flannel thrown over his shoulder like some sort of caricature of a hot barhand and Harry was, oh boy. Harry was having trouble forming words. He could feel his jaw working uselessly and this guy was saying something to him but in his post-interview and currently-lustful haze, it wasn’t even sounding like English.

“Can I get you anything?” the guy said with a laugh in his voice, like he was repeating himself, heavy brows furrowing over his eyes, which were the color of the kind of chocolate you bake with, too dark to eat plain, but warm and soft and Harry was staring and oh jeez, he had to say something didn’t he?

“Chocolate.” Harry blurted out, blinking. The bartender stared at him, pausing, looking confused. “Chocolate… milk.” Harry finished weakly.

\---

Louis burst so hard into laughter that Harry was for a moment worried about the state of his sinuses. As the laughter continued, however, the concern passed.

“It’s not _that_ funny,” Harry whined, face crumpling. Louis was wiping away tears, still hysterically gigging. It really wasn’t.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just- that’s your A-game. Ordering a chocolate milk from the hot bartender.” Louis gasped, clutching at his water glass. Why was Harry friends with him.

“I’m not gonna talk to you about the horrific state of my love life if you’re just going to laugh at me,” Harry sulked, shredding the napkin under his drink with his fingers as Louis cooed at the expression on his face.

“Alright, alright, I’ll be good, what happened then, dearheart?” Louis asked mildly, patting his shoulder and drinking from his glass. Harry’s brow furrowed lower and he paused before continuing shamefully.

“Nothing. I was so embarrassed I ran out of the bar.”

Louis spit the mouthful of water across their table.

\---

Harry returned to the offending bar a couple days later, once his pride had healed a bit, determined to make things right. It was a new day, he was wearing a clean shirt (probably), he was ready to look cute and order an alcoholic beverage like an adult and seduce the hot bartender. Everything was going to go according to plan.

He strode through the doors with the confidence of someone who hadn’t realized he had no idea if Hot Bartender was working today. It lasted a whole three seconds before he realized he didn’t recognize anyone working behind the counter.

His face fell as it dawned on him and a flush began to crawl up his neck. He was an idiot, twice in a row now. He was already spinning on his heel to exit when a voice caught his attention.

“Hey! Wait!”

Harry froze before ever so slowly turning back again toward the bar. Sure enough, there he was, looking just as built and tan and hot as ever, waving awkwardly like there was any chance Harry would miss him.

Harry shuffled back over to the counter, embarrassed to even be there, but the bartender didn’t seem bothered. He opened his mouth to apologize for the previous incident but was cut off.

“So, I didn’t know what kind you liked, so I got like, three of them,” the bartender started amicably, pulling three containers of varying sizes and colors onto the bar top. 

They were all different brands of chocolate milk mix.

Harry stared openly at them as the bartender continued. “I mean, I was hoping you’d come back anyway, because otherwise, I mean. I don’t really know of anyone else who orders chocolate milk at a bar, so they’d probably just go to waste. I mean, no pressure! Uh, what would you like?” He trailed off, looking so hopeful and earnest, and lord, he went out and bought chocolate milk mix for him-

“Yeah, I’d love some, any of it,” Harry managed, smiling wobbly, and the grin he got in return made the whole thing worth it.

A minute later, there was a pint glass of chocolate milk in front of Harry on the bar, and a beautiful, altogether too-pleased looking bartender on the other side. Grinning as best as he could, Harry gamely grabbed the glass and brought it to his lips.

_Bottoms up_ , he thought as he took a swig.

\---

“And you didn’t think to, like, tell him you’re lactose intolerant.” Louis deadpanned, staring at Harry like there were mysteries that would reveal themselves to him if he looked long enough.

Harry glared at him from over top where his head was nestled in his folded arms. “No, I didn’t,” he bit out delicately, rolling his eyes like it was Louis who was being ridiculous, but Louis naturally didn’t accept that.

“Harry, you literally projectile vomit when you drink milk, how exactly were you planning to pull?” Louis asked, leaning forward and flicking Harry hard in the forehead.

“Ow!” Harry complained, rubbing at the aching spot on his brow. “You’re mean, I don’t like you at all.”

“You love me. Now please continue to regale me with your pukey embarrassing chocolate milk conquests.”

“Well,” Harry trailed off.

\---

Harry was dribbling chocolate milk down the front of his shirt. He tried, honestly he did, but one mouthful was his limit.

“Are, are you okay?” Hot Bartender asked, and Harry wanted to answer ‘yes, aside from the whole wanting to spontaneously combust out of embarrassment and self-loathing and dairy-intolerance, thank you’, but settled on the polite thing instead.

“I’m fine,” Harry gurgled, tears in his eyes as he gagged down the last of what he was sure was the devil’s beverage. “I’m great.”

Hot Bartender wasn’t convinced.

“You kind of look like you’re dying, I’m sorry, did I not make it right? I can do a better one if you want-” he babbled, running a fretful hand over his closely cropped hair, but Harry cut him off.

“No! No, please don’t,” he started, trying to ignore the stab of anguish over the way the bartender’s face fell. “No, I mean, I-”

He took a deep breath, both to steady his nerves and his roiling stomach.

“I don’t even like chocolate milk. I’m lactose intolerant, actually. I just panicked when you asked me what I wanted because you’re fit as fuck.” Harry managed, trying desperately to maintain eye contact with him. “You’re really hot. Hi, I’m Harry. Can we get real drinks please?”

The bartender’s face finally split into a shy, overwhelmed smile, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose self consciously. “Yeah, okay. I’d like that. I’m Liam. I, uh, promise I can make you a better drink than that.”

Harry grinned wide at that. “I don’t doubt it. Nice to meet you, Liam.”

Liam grinned again, the slightest of flushes on his cheekbones. “Nice to meet you Harry.”

\---

Louis sipped contemplatively on his drink, eyeing Harry. “That’s very adorable, very meet-cute.”

Harry nodded. “It really was. Really got on. Like him a lot.”

“So when did you get sick all over the counter, as per your horrific lactose intolerance?”

“Oh, right after, it was a mess.”

“Yeah, I figured.”


End file.
